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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28302783">christmas morning</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjasper/pseuds/notjasper'>notjasper</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas, Christmas Morning, Flashbacks, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, dadschlatt but make it worse, i actually love schlatt but he’s abusive for story purposes, no beta we die like men, not graphic abuse dw :), yooooo christmas fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:34:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,937</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28302783</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjasper/pseuds/notjasper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>in which Phil recalls the story of how he met Tubbo.</p><p>-</p><p>happy holidays!! :D<br/>loosely based on my interpretation of how the sleepy bois found tubbo</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>162</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>more tubbo stories because i have had absolute tubbo brainrot these past few days</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>December 25th, 1:46 AM</em>
</p><p>Phil had made sure that his sons were all fast asleep before setting out their Christmas gifts that he claimed were from ‘Santa’. Of course, Techno and Wilbur knew better than to still believe in Santa, but Tommy had always been a big believer and still was at age nine. Quietly as he could, Phil opened up the closet door which he’d been hiding their presents in and began setting them out all over the living room - Techno’s gifts went on the sofa, Wilbur’s along the fireplace, and Tommy’s in his favorite overstuffed armchair. The presents the family had all given to each other were nestled under the tree already. Phil was setting down the last few of Wilbur’s gifts when he heard a strange noise coming from outside in the street.</p><p>The older blonde made his way over to a window cautiously, and his eyes widened with shock as he realized what was making the noises. A small child, no older than nine, was sitting on the curb outside their house. He was crying, and visibly shaking from the cold snow pelting his tiny body. Phil’s fatherly and protective nature got the best of him and he opened the front door slowly as not to alarm the child. </p><p>“Hey, are you alright?” Phil whispered as he got closer to the kid. He jumped slightly at the unexpected noise and looked at Phil with terror in his large, glassy eyes. The child said nothing, so Phil continued: “What’s your name?”</p><p>He finally got the courage to speak. “M-My name’s Tubbo,” he stuttered. The cold was making his teeth chatter and made speech difficult. He was only wearing an ill-fitting t-shirt and baggy shorts, so he was bound to get sick if he was outside for much longer. Phil also noticed that the small boy’s ears weren’t actually human; they looked like the ears of a goat or something similar.</p><p>“Okay, Tubbo, follow me. You’ve gotta be freezing out here,” Phil replied softly. He held out his hand as a sort of peace offering.</p><p>After a few seconds of deliberation, Tubbo gave in and followed Phil back into the house, clutching the older man’s hand tightly. Once he was in the house, Phil sat Tubbo down at the kitchen table and gave him a blanket to combat the coldness of the outdoors while he made hot cocoa.</p><p>Once the cocoa was done, Phil handed a small mug to the shivering boy. “To help you warm up,” he explained. “So, Tubbo, how did you end up here all on your own?”</p><p>Tubbo took a tentative sip of his cocoa before answering. “It’s ‘cause of my d-dad.”</p><p>This worried Phil greatly. “Your dad did this to you?”</p><p>“Kinda. H-He had a lot of d-d-drinks ‘cause it’s Christmas and said I was gettin’ in th-the way,” Tubbo answered as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Told me t-to stop bein’ so.. clingy, or s-something like that. I had a r-real bad dream and he was m-m-mad that I was up so late. I guess he r-really had a lot tonight.”</p><p>Phil was getting more worried with every word this small, shivering boy said. “Did he ever.. hit you?” he asked finally, terrified of the answer.</p><p>“Few times, y-yeah. Then I left. Don’t think he even knows I’ve g-gone,” Tubbo finished sadly.</p><p><em>Oh my God,</em> Phil thought, stunned. <em>This kid just talks about it like it’s nothing. </em></p><p>“Does he hit you often?” Phil asked, once again terrified. </p><p>“Only when h-he’s really had a lot,” Tubbo confirmed. “He promised he’d lay off the stuff for a while, but it is Christmas, after all. C-Couldn’t help himself.”</p><p><em>I can’t let him go back to that house,</em> Phil realized.</p><p>“What’s your dad’s name?” the older asked. He needed a name if he was going to do anything about what was happening to this poor kid.</p><p>“Everyone I hear just calls ‘im Schlatt,” Tubbo yawned. He was done with his hot cocoa by now and it was getting into the latest hours of the night. “Can I maybe.. stay here for the night?” he asked sleepily. “Too cold out there.”</p><p>“Of course!” Phil sputtered. “I’ve got a son who looks around your age. Maybe you two could be friends.”</p><p>“Really?” Tubbo asked, a mix of exhausted and excited. “I’m eight, how old’s he?”</p><p><em>This kid’s already eight? He looks much smaller than that.</em> “He’s nine. You can meet him in the morning, how about that?”</p><p>“Sounds good..” Tubbo trailed off, unsure of what to call the mysterious man who’d taken him in.</p><p>“Phil. Call me Phil.”</p><p>“Sounds good, Mr. Phil,” Tubbo giggled. </p><p>“Now, let’s get you to bed. Is the couch alright?” Phil inquired. He was getting a bit sleepy now himself, and he still needed to set out the rest of the gifts.</p><p>“Sure.” Tubbo yawned again. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Phil.”</p><p>Phil smiled sadly at the boy. “Merry Christmas.”</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>December 25th, 6:07 AM </em>
</p><p>“PHIL, WHY IS THERE A SMALL CHILD ON THE SOFA?!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>tw // alcoholism, implied child neglect and abuse</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After the excitement of Christmas Day came and went, Phil realized that he had not thought ahead at all. He was stuck with three of his own kids plus one that he had literally found on the side of the road. Most of the people he’d talked to had suggested that Phil should just give him back to his dad, even though he had adamantly insisted that Tubbo was not safe in that household. Now, it was January 8th of the new year, and he was still no closer to getting justice for this kid. He’d filed a report to get Schlatt’s household checked out but it had been a full week he hadn’t heard back from anybody. It was frustrating, to say the least. </p><p>Meanwhile, Tommy was loving having a new friend. Wilbur had also taken an immediate liking to the small boy. Techno took a little longer to come around, but eventually cracked and accepted that Tubbo would be around for a while longer than expected. Tubbo had adjusted to his new environment pretty well. He’d moved from the couch to a mattress on the floor in Tommy’s room, as per their requests. </p><p>Phil was sat on the sofa, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, when an idea came to him. He hadn’t actually seen Schlatt’s house yet and had no idea of how bad it really was -- or wasn’t. While he hated to consider it, there was always a chance that Tubbo had embellished some details or full-on lied to Phil. The only way he’d know for sure was to see the house himself. </p><p>“Tubbo?” he called. The boys were upstairs in Wilbur’s bedroom dressing up Techno in various unflattering outfits they gathered from old closets and dresser drawers. He heard the happy laughter and noises hush and the bedroom door creak open. </p><p>“Yeah?” Tubbo answered quietly.</p><p>“Come down here for a second, I’ve got something to ask you,” Phil said. Little pattering footsteps sounded in the stairwell as Tubbo rushed down the staircase and towards the couch. Phil patted the cushion next to him, signaling for the brunette to come sit down next to him. Tubbo hoisted himself up and settled on the couch, legs sticking straight out in front of him. “So, Tubbo, do you remember where your dad’s house is?”</p><p>Tubbo was silent for a second before answering. “I didn’t walk that far to get here, but.. you’re not bringing me back, right?”</p><p>“Of course not, I just want to tell your dad that you’re alright. He must be worried sick about you,” Phil said earnestly. “I’m not gonna bring you back there, Tubbo.”</p><p>“I’ll show you where,” Tubbo said hesitantly, “if you promise I don’t go back.”</p><p>“I promise.”</p><p>-</p><p>After the promise, Phil took Tubbo around the neighborhood until he identified Schlatt’s house. It was barely even a block away from Phil’s house, and Phil was beating himself up over that. <em> He was practically my next-door neighbor, </em> he thought. <em> How did I not find out about this until now? </em></p><p>Slowly, Phil walked up to the front door. He picked up the terrified boy and held him close to make him feel safe. “I’m sorry, Tubbo,” he whispered. “I know it’s scary but I’ve gotta talk to him, okay? I’m not bringing you back.” Phil felt the slightest nod against his chest. Taking this is a sign that Tubbo was okay, he used his free hand to reach out and ring the doorbell.</p><p>“I’m comin’, I’m coming!” someone yelled from inside the dark house. Moments later, the front door swung open and Phil gasped.</p><p>The man standing in the doorway left him speechless. Schlatt was wearing what looked to be a three-piece suit, except the jacket was entirely unbuttoned and hung sadly around his frame. The collared shirt he wore underneath the jacket was barely buttoned and his blood-red tie was loose around his neck. Dark circles framed his eyes and messy mutton chops clung to the sides of his face. A pair of ram horns protruded out of his dark brown hair and circled around equally dark ears similar to Tubbo’s. He was clutching a half-empty bottle of vodka in one hand and used the other to support himself on the doorframe. Schlatt’s breath was labored and he reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Phil instinctively recoiled and Tubbo tightened his grip on Phil’s shirt.</p><p>“W’d you want?” Schlatt slurred. He was obviously very, very intoxicated, and it was only one in the afternoon. </p><p>“Are you.. Schlatt?” Phil asked. He realized didn’t know the man’s first name, but it was much too late for that. He’d already made up his mind; Tubbo was absolutely not going back to Schlatt’s ‘care’.</p><p>“Yep, that’s me,” Schlatt answered slowly. “And who’d you..” His dark eyes traveled up until they landed on Tubbo, shaking and terrified. “Toby?” he said, shocked.</p><p><em>Toby? </em> Phil thought. <em> Does he mean Tubbo? </em></p><p>His suspicions were all but confirmed when Tubbo whispered, “Can we <em>please</em> go now, Mr. Phil?” </p><p>“That’s my son!” Schlatt picked up his voice and straightened his back. “Give me back my fuckin’ son, you bitch! Little shit ran away on Christmas and nearly got the cops called on me!” He reached out to try and grab Tubbo, but Phil swiftly moved away and Schlatt, in his drunken state, stumbled forward and fell onto his knees. The glass bottle he was holding shattered on the concrete landing outside the house and the door swung open. Phil finally caught a glimpse of the inside of Schlatt’s house and immediately wished he hadn’t.</p><p>It was dark, so it was difficult to make out most of the things inside, but what little that was visible was bad enough to make Phil extremely concerned. There were clothes and trash flung everywhere. The kitchen had a single light in it and he could clearly see the mountain of dirty dishes piling up in the sink. The sofa was stained and had mismatched cushions. A door leading off to what Phil assumed to be a bedroom had noises coming from it that sounded like a TV on full volume.</p><p>Phil began backing away from the house again, but Schlatt looked up and saw him leaving. Pure anger glared in his eyes and he picked up the broken bottle. Phil’s eyes widened as he realized what Schlatt’s intentions were. He secured Tubbo with his other hand and began running down the path and into the street, back towards their house. </p><p>Tubbo was absolutely never going back to that man’s household.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i like writing really sad characters for some reason, this was fun but also kinda hard to write</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>imagine walking downstairs christmas morning and seeing a whole ass person under your tree</p><p>-</p><p>(off topic but ummmm)<br/>so my personal theory (for the smp lore) is that schlatt is tubbo’s biological dad, but was unable to raise him once his problems with alcohol got too severe, hence his ban from the server. phil then found him on the side of the road and took him in. once schlatt’s alcoholism got better and he was let back on the server, he tried to make amends with his son but only ended up tearing them apart further once he slipped back into his old addictions. tubbo always resented his father for the pain he caused him during early childhood  and never wanted to end up like him, but now history is repeating itself and tubbo is beginning to follow in his father’s footsteps.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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